


you can listen to the choir

by implodingpotato



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existential Angst, M/M, jonny is bad at feelings, some soft feelings got in there anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/implodingpotato/pseuds/implodingpotato
Summary: A late night on the Aurora. Jonny is restless; Brian is an anchor.
Relationships: Drumbot Brian/Jonny d'Ville
Comments: 10
Kudos: 154
Collections: Mechs Fic Exchange





	you can listen to the choir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [space_aces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_aces/gifts).



> hi david, hope you're in the mood for some two of hearts! it got a lil angstier than intended but I hope you like it

Time didn’t have much meaning when one was an immortal being voyaging through the vast expanse of space but there were points when Jonny felt it all too keenly. The moments when he didn’t have the promise of a new song or a good fight to distract him, when he could see the glint of Carmilla’s self-satisfied smile in the corner of his vision and feel every pump of his heart with perfect, sickening clarity. 

Those moments were the ones that left him, restless and on edge in a way that he refused to think too deeply about, wandering through the Aurora’s corridors, as he was now. It was night, or what passed for it on the Aurora, lights dim and passages silent save for his own footfalls and the faint hum of the ship herself. 

Without much by way of input from his brain, Jonny’s feet took him towards the bridge. In sharp contrast to its usual chaos it, like the rest of the ship, was quiet. Quiet was not the same as empty though; Jonny could spot the distinctive figure of one Drumbot Brian over in the pilot’s seat. Aurora did not truly need a pilot but Brian insisted on spending time at the helm when he could. “It’s not as though either of us needs to sleep,” he pointed out any time Jonny tried to mock him for it. “And she appreciates the company.” Sentimental bastard. It did make him easy to find though—if one was seeking him out, which Jonny definitely wasn’t. As the captain, it was perfectly reasonable for him to check up on the bridge whenever he damn well pleased, that was all. 

“Jonny?” Brian said, voice soft, as Jonny crossed the room and threw himself down into the co-pilot’s chair. 

Jonny didn’t answer. Brian had a terrible habit of saying Jonny’s name like it was a precious thing and the gentleness in his tone snagged Jonny through his facsimile of a heart and shriveled his words to dust in his throat. So he didn’t say anything, just pulled his knees into his chest and watched the ways in which the faint light from the console shifted across Brian’s hands. They were rather deft for constructs of brass and wire, equally capable of strumming a difficult banjo chord or snapping a neck. Jonny had seen them do both, and more besides, on many occasions. Still, he found himself captivated as Brian moved his hands with practiced surety against the controls. It was almost a diversion from the roiling unrest that still pulsed through him. 

They sat in silence for a while because Brian was nothing if not infuriatingly patient at times. Jonny’s thoughts skittered against his ribcage and the back of his throat. The crushing weight of eternity that echoed with each beat of his heart. New Texas heat and the gleam of metal. The way that the sound of his name fell so undeservedly softly from Brian’s mouth. All jumbled and inextricably knotted together. 

“I—” Jonny said at last before trailing off. He tried again. “Do you—” No. He went quiet again, clenching and unclenching his fists against the armrests of his chair. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t corral his own brain, that words could come so easily to him when telling other people’s stories but he couldn’t work out what to say to Brian. Had that been Carmilla’s work or had he always been like this? He couldn’t remember. 

The touch of cool metal against his skin startled Jonny back to the moment. Brian had carefully placed his hand next to Jonny’s, palm up, the side of his thumb ever so slightly nudging Jonny’s little finger. An invitation. Jonny, overcome with the desperate urge to feel something else real and alive, took it, easing his hand over Brian’s and slotting their fingers together. As he did, Brian turned from the console to look at him with something like relief.

“You seemed far away,” he said. 

Jonny could feel the faintest thrum of machinery beneath the drumbot’s skin in soothing counterpoint to his own heartbeat. “I guess I was,” he admitted after a moment. Brian doesn’t comment on the roughness of his voice; instead, his mouth twisted into a wry smile. 

“I know the feeling.” 

Jonny snorted. “Yeah, and aren’t you so glad you get an eternity of this?” He gestured with his free hand to encompass the room, ending with a particularly vicious flourish as he hooked his thumb towards his own chest. “Two sad fucks with broken brains and one heart between them, jetting through space forever because some cosmic joke of a doctor wouldn’t let them die?” 

Brian met his gaze unflinchingly. “I’m not denying that the circumstances aren’t ideal,” he replied. “But—” He used their joined grip to raise Jonny’s hand to his lips, kissing his fingertips and then the delicate bones at his wrist. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.” 

Jonny scowled even as he felt the telltale heat of a blush warm his cheeks. “You’re a goddamn sap, Brian.”

“Maybe so,” Brian agreed peaceably but with the slightest hint of a smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. 

Jonny had to kiss him properly for that—just to wipe that expression from his face, of course. Brian retaliated by pressing more kisses to Jonny’s jaw, his throat, his collarbone...trailing his lips down Jonny’s chest until they rested over his heart. He left a final kiss there, like a benediction, and even though he knew that the nature of his mechanism made it impossible, Jonny could swear that his heart skipped a beat. 

Brian had turned back to the console, which Jonny would have protested had he not been struck by a wave of pent-up exhaustion. He sunk further into his own chair, not protesting as Brian took hold of his hand again. 

“You should sleep, Jonny. It’s late.”

“Fuck off, Brian,” he mumbled but without any bite to his words, gazing past the console to stare out through the Aurora’s front window. He wasn’t sure where Brian was taking them but that didn’t matter. The drone of his heartbeat in his ears had settled down at last and Brian’s hand was cool and solid in his. For now at least, the notion of eternity was subsumed by that of the present. As his eyelids grew heavier, Jonny watched the distant stars and let himself enjoy the moment.


End file.
